


Stretch Marks are a Type of Scar

by Lilbug121



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilbug121/pseuds/Lilbug121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://kappa773.tumblr.com/post/91949791731">this prompt</a>: </p><p>"Imagine Wash and Tucker after having sex and instead of falling right asleep, they started feeling around each others bodies, nothing extremely sexual, just exploring.</p><p>Then Wash’s hands brush over some stretch marks on Tucker’s stomach. He’s a bit curious, so he goes ahead and asks, “Where are these from?”</p><p>Tucker just freezes, because those are from when he was carrying Junior and he still hasn’t told Wash that, oh yeah, I’m the father/mother of an alien baby (he’s been meaning to, of course, it just hasn’t come up in conversation!)</p><p>And so Tucker’s just like “Shit”"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stretch Marks are a Type of Scar

The room is dark; the space around you only dimly light, but it is enough to make out each other’s features. Your hand drags lightly down your partner’s hip, coming to rest on his upper thigh. You’re both tired, coming down from your post-sex high, but you’re not ready to sleep. Not just yet. You don’t get a lot of quiet moments like this, especially not together, and you plan on taking advantage of it while you can. Tucker seems to be thinking the same thing as he brings you into a slow, gentle kiss. Lazy half-awake touches, more like active cuddling than anything else. You don’t wince when his fingers brush your scars anymore, which is probably the most telling thing about your relationship with him.

You both have your share of scars, and stories to go along with them, but tonight (not for the first time) you notice a rather…odd one on your partner. Jagged lines radiate out from his stomach, and a deep straight line sits inches below his belly button. You can’t think of anything that would cause marks like that, and the bottom one is too deep to be easily survivable on the battlefield. You don’t want to pry (you know what it feels like not to want to explain a scar) but it’s so peaceful tonight and you think, worst case scenario he says he doesn’t want to talk about it and that’ll be that. For all you know it wasn’t even from fighting. Childhood injuries often leave strange scars (a burn on your arm can attest to that).

You drag your palm along stomach, coming to rest there over strait scar. “What’re these from?” you ask calmly.

“What’re what from?”

“These. On your stomach. If…you want to tell me, I mean.”

Tucker still looks confused for a second. “Shit, right” he says suddenly.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, trust me, I’d understand.”

Tucker shakes his head. “No, no it’s fine. It’s just…a little weird, but I swear it’s what happened. You know how I said I have a kid?”

You nod, feeling a little apprehensive. You’re not sure where he’s going with this but it involves a child and that’s almost never good.

“Yeah, ok, I literally _had_ a kid. Who’s kind of an alien. I’ve…been meaning to bring that detail up, but it doesn’t really come up in conversation, does it?” He’s laughing about it, but you’re sure he’s telling the truth. You’ve read his file and filled in the gaps since then, this might not even be the weirdest thing that’s happened to him. But it’s still a lot to swallow.

“Wait. Had a kid like…past tense or?”

He shakes his head. “Had a kid like literally gave birth. So, yeah, stretch marks. And then they had to cut him out of me, for obvious reasons.” He’s chuckling again, and he puts his hand over yours.

“That…wasn’t in your file” was all you could think to say, and you immediately curse yourself for saying something so stupid.

“Good.” He sounds a little serious all of a sudden.

“Why?”

Tucker sighs. “My eyes used to be brown, you know.” You remember distantly that his file had been edited to say he had green eyes, and the change had been marked as a bookkeeping error. “Before I had Junior.”

“Where are you headed with this?”

“I’m... not exactly 100% human anymore, and he’s not 100% Sangheli. If anyone knew that they’d probably start to wonder how that works. And governments wondering about things tends to lead to them poking that thing with scalpels. As far as anyone I don’t know is concerned, I found a Sangheli infant with dead parents and adopted him.”

The room is heavily silent as you contemplate what was just told to you.

“You must really love this kid.”

Tucker smiles a little. “You have no idea.”

“Do you…know where he is right now?”

He shakes his head. “Haven’t had a clear idea in a while. But, I know he’s doing ok. I can just tell, like some kind of 6th sense. At the very least he isn’t…he’s alive, I know that much.”

“That’s something.”

“S’not enough. Hasn’t been for a while”.

You nod. “But it’s still something.”

He sighs. “I guess.”

The room is quiet again, loudly so. Tucker rolls off of his side to lie on his back. You pause.

“…What was he like?” you finally ask.

 “Why do you care?”

“Well, I’m gonna need him to like me when I meet him.” you answer.

Tucker looks at you for a long moment, and finally gives a breathless chuckle. He cracks a small smile.

“Well for starters, he’s a little shit. I love him to the end of the universe, but he’s a little shit.”

“So he takes after you then?”

Tucker shoves you for that comment, and you both smile.

He ends up talking for hours. You’re tired tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to mind.


End file.
